


weathering the storm

by onthelasttrain



Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Slow Burn, can u have slow burn in a one shot?, crush to romance, gretchen is a precious over thinking bean who deserves love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthelasttrain/pseuds/onthelasttrain
Summary: Janis comes to Gretchen's rescue as she tries to walk home on a miserable afternoon. Being in her old/new friend's house is odd, but nowhere near as odd as the growing feelings inside her; both new and slightly familiar. But maybe there's more to her daring and bold classmate than Gretchen thought; and maybe there's more to herself too.





	weathering the storm

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the perfectly miserable weather we'd had in Ireland and the "Grungy Gretchen" pic Krystina posted on her instagram story, which made me want to write Gretchen wearing Janis' clothes.

Rain pours down over the suburban streets, even heavier than the news had warned, accompanied by claps of thunder that seem to shake the sky. As she tries to make her way home through the near-flooded streets, Gretchen pulls her jacket tighter around her, although if she’s honest, it’s not much of a jacket. It’s thin and flimsy, held together with a silver broach and used more for decoration than any actual warmth. But it was the only garment she was able to find in her closet that morning that went with her blue top and knee-length white skirt. All of which she is fiercely regretting now. Even with her tights, her legs are covered in goose bumps and rain clings to them like little kids in stores clinging to their moms. The rain hits the back of her neck and head hard, mussing up her carefully-styled dark hair, and her back and shoulders ache from shivering. And all that is without thinking about the pain in her ankles from trying to navigate the uneven street in her heels when she can barely see in front of herself. In short, Gretchen a lot like the weather. Completely and utterly miserable.

She rolls her shoulder around, trying to ease the pain that the weight of her bag brings. She decided to bring more books than she needed today, hoping to get into some studying after the library. She needs to get some sort of grasp on chemistry, otherwise she’ll have to face another D, and the workload for English is getting greater with every passing class so that even with dedicating her free periods to it, she feels like she’s watching her classmates speed ahead of her and leave her in the dust. Part of her begins to wish she had left some books in her locker, despite having never opened her locker since freshman year. She left a book there by mistake and ever since, the idea of opening her locker has forms a heavy weight in her stomach.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when she feels a wave crashing over her; cold water attacking her side and nearly toppling her. It’s partly her fault; these shoes were definitely not made for walking in. Gasping, she pushes a thick clump of wet hair away from her face just in time to see a small dark blue car speeding off into the distance, as well as a large grey puddle rippling beside her.

Gretchen feels her face crumple. Hot tears spill over her cheeks, a startling contrast to the cold of the rain and wind. The puddle attack had already left her breathless, but now as her chest tightens and sobs wreck through her sore body, it’s feeling next to impossible.

She tenses as another pair of headlights roll up beside her in her peripheral vision and make two bright yellow circles on the puddle. She tenses even more as the truck the headlights belong to slows down. She’s heard horror stories in assembly of kids who are offered lifts home from school. At least her heels are probably sharp enough to use as a weapon. And her bag heavy enough to use as a bludgeon. And she has her phone on her.

Except the window rolls down and she doesn’t see a man with a kind face but cunning eyes; she sees Janis. Her classmate, slash old friend, slash possible new friend, half leaning on the window of her pick-up truck, in all her purple lipsticked, thick mascara-ed glory.

“You okay there, Gretch?” she asks.

“Fine,” she says, shouting a little over the rain. She blinks are more tears make their way down her face. “Just.. bad weather.”

“Yeah, it’s a bitch,” Janis replies. She slaps the side of her truck. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s fine, really. I-I like walking.” Janis raises an eyebrow. “Okay, well, maybe not, but I don’t live that far away.”

“Yes, you do,” she replies. “Unless you moved in the last five years.” Gretchen curses under her breath. Janis went to her house plenty of times back when they were still friends. She’s sat in the back of Gretchen’s mom’s cat as they drove back from the park to her place. “And you are not walking that distance. Come on, get in. You can even pick the music.”

“No,” she says again, shaking her head. “It’s fine. Thanks, Janis, really, but I don’t need a ride.”

“Gretchen,” Janis says sternly, looking at how her wet clothes cling to her. “Either you get in or I will go out there myself and drag you in here.”

“Okay,” she sighs, cringing at the idea of Janis tossing her over her shoulder and pushing her into the passenger seat of her truck. “Fine.” She scurries around to the passenger door and climbs in, much to Janis’ pleasure. She’s smiling triumphantly as she closes the door.

“There we go,” she says, turning up the heat on the dashboard. Within seconds Gretchen feels warm air all around her, as though it’s wrapping her in a tight hug. She has to hold herself back from sighing in relief as Janis pulls away from the kerb. She’s frowning at the scene in front of her, window wipers moving frantically in a race between them and the weather. The sky is completely grey, just as it was when Gretchen woke up this morning. “Beautiful weather. What were you even doing walking in it?” She asks bluntly, no intention of holding back even a little, and for some reason it makes Gretchen smile.

“Well, Regina left school before me,” she explains. “She’s usually my ride home but I wanted to stay in the library. And Karen couldn’t stay either. And the buses have been cancelled.”

“Why? Regina’s not around,” Janis states, a broad grin on her face.

Gretchen falls against the back of the chair, covering her mouth with her hand as high pitched giggles fill the car. She knows it’s rude to laugh about what happened to Regina; she feels bad about it now and she’ll definitely feel worse later. But… well that was funny. And she does have the beck brace off now.

“It’s because of the weather,” she tells her.

“Yeah well maybe they were right there,” Janis says, leaning forward in her seat. “Can’t see shit out here.” She rolls her purple lips into a thin line, her brow furrowing in thought. She turns to look at Gretchen just in time for a shiver to run through her body. “Hey, I live a lot closer than you do. Why don’t we go to my place, you can dry off there, and then maybe call your mom? I’m pretty sure Sabrina here is going to short out if I try to take her that far.”

“Sabrina?”

“My truck.” She shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world for a white, slightly rusted truck to be named after a TV witch. “So my place?”

“Sure,” she says, curling her hands into tight fists so that her long nails press into her palms. Truthfully, she doesn’t want to go to Janis’ house and take up space there and use up her towels. But she also doesn’t want to walk out all the way to her house. And she’s not sure Janis would let her. “Thank you. So much.”

“I’m just letting you crash in my place, Gretch,” she says softly. “Not giving you a kidney.” Gretchen huffs a small laugh. Janis drums her fingers on the steering wheel, singing along to the Alanis Morrisette song coming from her CD player and bopping her head along. Janis walks through the halls like she’s in her own world, like Gretchen is on the other side of some glass wall watching her paint rainbows on the walls, taking up as much space as she likes and making all the noise she wants and not caring when people roll their eyes at her. Sometimes she wishes she could join her.

“Here we go,” Janis says, pulling up in front of her house. “Casa Janis. Or Maison Janis.” The house looks fairly familiar, not having changed much since she was here last. Small and white with a black painted roof and a flower box in one of the downstairs windows. Those flowers are being well fed now. Janis jumps out of the truck and opens the back to lift a heavy looking A3 folder out of it before running up the path, Gretchen following tightly behind her.

“I’m back!” she calls as they step into the hallway. The light is on and warmth seeps into Gretchen’s bones even with her wet clothes clinging to her skin.

“Janice!” a voice from further into the house, followed by a long stream of French that Gretchen can barely hear, never mind understand or translate. Janis responds in French as well; it rolls so perfectly off her tongue you’d think she had grown up in Paris.

“Oh that’s right! Your dad’s French!” As soon as she’s said it she regrets it. Despite weeks of trying, she still can’t seem to get herself under control. Something comes into her head and races out her mouth before she can even think about it. She steps back, goose bumps prickling on her arms that aren’t from the cold. Even Janis’ light giggle and fond smile doesn’t dispel her worries.

“Yep. But the rule is we speak English when there’s friends over.” She turns back to where her dad must be and calls again. “Dad! I’ve brought a friend over!” With that, Janis begins climbing up the stairs. She’s up four when she turns and motions for Gretchen to come with her.

“Okay!” he replies. “Which friend?”

“Gretchen,” she replies before running up the stairs, taking two at a time, and leading Gretchen into the first door on the right; her bedroom.

Just like the girl herself, Janis’ bedroom has changed dramatically since they were 13. The once blue walls are painted purple now, her single bed gone and replaced by a queen sized with a red and black check cover over it and about four plush, soft looking pillows. In the midst of all those pillows is a small toy cat, probably no bigger than Gretchen’s hand, with black fur and little white paws.

“Purrlock!” she exclaims, picking him up. Janis turns from where she stands at her open closet and laughs slightly as Gretchen holds her little cat. “Aw, I remember him. God you used to take him everywhere. Like to my sleepover when I was 11. The one for my birthday.”

“He’s my little kitty,” she answers, crossing over to the bed with a fluffy looking navy towel in her arms. She scratches Purrlock’s back with her finger. “I had to take him with me.” Gretchen’s sure she’s imagining the pink hue in Janis’ otherwise pale cheeks as the other girl hands her the towel. “Here, dry yourself off.” Gretchen takes it gratefully and runs it over her hair first before drying off her neck and rolling up her sleeves to get at her arms. Janis cocks her head as she watches her, concern flickering in her brown eyes. “Although… maybe, here you can borrow some of my clothes.”

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Gretchen argues, even though Janis is already up and at her wardrobe, one hand on her hip. “I mean these are comfortable enough.” It’s an outright lie; the skirt is sticking to her legs and coming away red and her top is clinging to her stomach like a limpet, but she’s already in Janis’ house and using her towel. There’s a line. She stands up, stumbling and falling slightly on her shaky legs, weakened by the cold and rain. She probably just proved Janis’ point to her. “That’s really nice of you Janis, but I can’t take your clothes too.”

“Sure you can.” She struts back over to the end, handing her a small dark bundle of clothes. “You’re about my size anyway. I’ll give you some privacy to change.” Gretchen can barely get another feeble protest out before Janis flounces out, clicking the door shut behind her. She’s left alone in the room, shivering in her soaked clothes, holding Janis’ ones in her hands. They’re certainly a lot drier. And warmer, heat seeping into her frozen hands. And it would be rude not to wear them now.

With a sigh, she peels her jacket off and flips her top over her head, gasping lightly as the cold air hits her damp skin. She hastily dries herself with the towel before pulling on the t-shirt Janis lent her and then pulling the grey plaid shirt on over it. The skirt is thankfully easier to get off and the gets the jeans on with a surprising amount of ease. They’re skinny, but not at all like the skin tight ones she’s grown used to wearing; they hug her legs and chase away the cold. The t shirt is soft and thick against her skin and the plaid shirt might as well be a blanket around her shoulders, the fabric impossibly soft and the sleeves falling just past her hands. As she folds up her own clothes, she bites back a laugh-and a blush-as she sees what’s on the bed; Janis left her a pair of impossibly fluffy white socks. She puts them on, immediately warming her blue toes.

She sits back down on the bed, feeling awkward and agitated as she hears Janis and her dad moving around downstairs. She looks around the room for a distraction; drawn to the canvases that hang on the walls. She guesses they’re Janis’ work, the brushstrokes strikingly similar to the ones she’s seen in the art rooms on the rare occasion she’s been in there. They’re all a bit well… not traditional; a picture of a pale girl purple hair and red eyes and pointed fangs, one of a fairy with crimson wings trapped in a jar, one of a mermaid with a shark’s tail. There’s less fantastical ones too; she spots one of Janis, Damian and Cady, all caught up in a moment and laughing with bright eyes. She forces the flicker of envy inside her to die down, not really being able to remember the last time she and Karen and Regina laughed together without Gretchen then feeling guilty for it.

She taps her toes against the purple carpet as she waits for Janis, growing more anxious by the minute. Maybe she’s meant to go downstairs and tell her she’s ready? Maybe she’s meant to text her? She takes her phone out of her bag and holds it in her lap her thumb hovering over it. The tapping of her toes gets faster.

“Gretch?” She jumps as Janis’ loud voice calls from the other side of her door. “You decent?”

“Y-yeah,” she says, jumping off the bed and running to the door to open it. Janis beats her to the punch and swings it open, a plate with two cookies in her hand and a smile on her face.

“You look good,” she says, crossing over to the bed and sitting down. “Here, I got you a cookie.”

“Oh, thanks.” It’s soft and gooey in her mouth, warm chocolate spreading over her teeth and tongue.

“Also I was talking to my dad downstairs,” Janis goes on, turning to face Gretchen and tucking one leg underneath her. “He said that a lot of the roads have been closed because of the rain. Lot of flooding and shit. So I thought… Maybe you could just hang here for a while until the roads clear up? We can study together. You can have dinner here if you need to. My dad always goes overboard with the cooking. He loves having company.”

She wants to say no. But she also knows that if she does, Janis will press her until she agrees. Anyway, it’s not like she can say no. The rain pounds against the window, the wind scrapes loudly against the glass and a clap of thunder makes Gretchen squeak.

“Okay,” she agrees. “Thanks. So much.”

“I’m just letting you study here, Gretch,” Janis tells her. “It’s nothing.”

“You also lent me these,” she reminds her, gesturing to the clothes. “They’re great by the way. I really love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Janis says fondly. She gestures her hand at the shirt. “You know, sometimes the stereotypes are true.”

“Stereotypes… Oh, you mean the lesbian one.” Not for the first time, Gretchen kicks herself, especially when Janis’ smile falters a little. Those two words that Regina keyed into Janis’ locker those years ago are still fresh in her mind, and no doubt in Janis’.

“Yeah, the lesbian stereotype,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “Not all of them are true though. I don’t know jack shit about DIY.”

Gretchen doesn’t entirely get what Janis means, but she smiles and nods anyway. She sends a quick text to her mom before picking up her bag and taking out her notes, picking up where she left off in the library. She looks through her annotated copy of Hamlet, trying to do what her mum suggested and make mind maps of the important stuff.

“Ugh, English is killing me this year,” Janis says, nodding to her book.

“Yeah, but you’re really good at it,” Gretchen reminds her. “Remember you wrote all those stories in middle school?”

“Yeah writing’s the easy part. Not so much all that reading. Doesn’t help that Mr McKenna is an ableist bastard.” There’s something so compelling in the ferocity of her voice, the way she so casually slips out a swear word the way anyone else would casually call someone a friend. “He’s not very dyslexia friendly.”

“I know. Or just friendly in general.” She does remember a rather intense panic in sophomore year following one of his classes. “Ms Boyle’s an angel though.”

“Don’t I know it. She lets us use her classroom for the LGBT+ society meetings.”

“Oh, I heard about that. I mean I always mean to go, but I’ve been so busy.”

“You should come on down,” Janis tells her, propping her plastic-covered canvases against the wall. “Next week me and Aaron are doing an ace introduction workshop. For the little baby aces. Or just anyone who wants to know about it.”

“I’ll try to make it.” Gretchen wonders if she’s imagining the elephant in the room. Janis doesn’t seem to notice, humming something only she knows as she takes a ratty looking notebook out of her beg and starts flipping through it, clicking a pen absent mindedly. If she went to the LGBT+ society then that would make her…

She doesn’t know. Well, she kind of knows. She knows girls are pretty and she wouldn’t mind kissing them and that boys are… less so. No one else knows, except maybe Janis now. She studies her more than she studies her Shakespeare, taking in her furrowed brow as she tries to make sense of her maths notes. She can’t think why she told Janis. Maybe it’s because she’s never push her. Or maybe part of her holds on to middle school where Janis was trusted with Gretchen’s deepest secrets.

“Maybe I’ll just get Caddy to help me,” she sighs. “She gets all this stuff. She loves it. Sometimes I think she’s more into math than she is Aaron.”

“I mean, she grew up doing math,” Gretchen offers. “And her parents are… math people? Don’t zoologists do math?”

“I think so,” Janis says, wrinkling her nose. “Imagine if we all took after our parents. Bleh.”

“You don’t want to be like your parents?”

“Aw, not like that,” she says, leaning back on her arm. “I mean, I love them. But my dad does human resources and my mom’s a museum curator. None of that says me, you know. If I end up in a museum, I want it to my work that ends up there.”

“It will! You’re so great at art.” A little pink blush glows on Janis’ face.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been looking at art colleges and stuff. Somewhere cool. Big city. Like New York or something.” She takes another notebook out of her bag and pulls a face, showing it to Gretchen. It has “GEOGRAPHY” written in block letters and red pen on a label, but what draws Gretchen’s eye is the phrase “The Lesbian Agenda” printed across the front for all to see. “But I still have to pass this shit too.”

Janis turns on the music on her phone, letting Gretchen scroll through her library and pick a playlist, and they study with Sara Bareilles in the background. As each song plays, Gretchen feels the tension in her stomach lighten more and more, to the point where she is sitting up against Janis’ wall with her legs crossed, giggling at the faces Janis pulls at her calculus notes, which Cady is attempting to explain through text messages.

“So I never asked,” Janis begins. “What are you thinking of doing? In college I mean.”

“Um…” Gretchen taps the top of her pen with her fingertip. “I mean… I’ve kind of started looking at social work.”

“No way, that’s awesome!” she replies. “My aunt’s a social worker, and she’s a complete badass.”

“Yeah, my cousin is too. It just looks great, you know. Getting to help all those little kids.” There’s so much more on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she holds it all back, the image of Regina rolling her eyes at her sharp in her mind.

“That’s what my aunt says,” Janis agrees. “So do you know where you want to go?”

“Not too far,” she says. “Maybe just stay in Chicago.” Janis hums, her wrist moving quickly as she doodles in her notebook. “But I won’t go anywhere if I don’t get my grades up. My dad will kill me if I get another C in English.” She pulls Hamlet back into her lap and frowns at it. Janis scoots closer to her on the bed, rolling onto her stomach.

“Hey, maybe we can study together,” she suggests. “Help each other out.”

“Okay,” Gretchen agrees. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“Oh you’ll be fine,” she says, sitting opposite her and crossing her long legs. “Fetch, even.” She opens up her own copy of Hamlet, her scribbles sprawling out all over the pages, each one in a different coloured pen. She leans over and lifts her backpack onto the bed, pulling out her English notebook. It has pink and white stripes on the front, and it embarrassingly takes Gretchen a moment to realise it’s the lesbian pride flag. Janis wears who she is wherever she can; on her stationery, her clothes, her bag. It’s beautiful, how fearless she is. She remembers after those months when she didn’t come back to school, when she marched back in September with Doc Martens and heavy make-up. From then on she was loud and unapologetic, her middle finger her new best friend. People compare Regina to a lion; the queen of the jungle that is their school, but Gretchen secretly thinks that if anyone is a lion, it’s Janis. Fearless and proud, a stunning beauty you’d never want to cross.

She takes her notecards out of her folder.

They work through each act of Hamlet, Gretchen showing Janis her mind map for act one and Janis being so impressed with it she decides to have a go at doing one herself, the artist in her loving it and even drawing a little picture next to each sub-heading. Gretchen walks her through it, a thrill running through her as she keeps talking and Janis just nods, filling it in as she tells her. In return, Janis helps her with the character biographies, making her laugh by referring to Hamlet as a “tricky bitch” and then promptly Tip-Ex-ing it out. They’re interrupted by Janis’ dad, who comes up with two plates of vegetable omelettes with sweet potato, asparagus and a bread roll on the side.

“Thank you so much,” Gretchen says as she takes the plate from him. He also hands two cans of Diet Coke to Janis and she sets them between them.

“You’re welcome, Gretchen. Long time, no see. Isn’t that the expression.”

“Yeah,” she says, discomfort slithering around her. “Been busy.”

“Of course. Happy studying.” Janis nods, a piece of asparagus hanging out of her mouth.

“Got to love how he still acts like he can’t speak English,” she chuckles fondly. “He speaks better English than me.”

“Still, do you always get dinners like this?” she asks, thinking about her and her mom eating oven cooked chicken and fries or microwaved rice.

“Yeah,” she says. “He works part time, and he really likes cooking. Guess it’s the French in him.”

“What part of France is he from?”

“The south. Brittany. Here…” She leans over and lifts a framed photo off the bedside table, turning it around so Gretchen can see it. It’s Janis, her hair much shorter and more blonde, with her natural black just beginning to creep into it, sitting next to a red-haired girl around the same age on a grassy hill, a sparkling blue ocean behind them. “Sun all day, ocean everywhere.”

“It looks beautiful,” Gretchen says. The Janis in the photo is laughing, carefree as the breeze that blows her short hair away from her face. “I remember when you got that haircut. It looked amazing.” Of course, she’s talking about when Janis walked back into North Shore, making her grand return with shoulder length half-blonde, half-black hair and her chin up.

“I did it myself,” she confesses, her tone uncharacteristically shy. She rakes a hand through her longer hair. “It was just time for a change, I guess.”

There’s a lot Gretchen wants to say. She wants to say that she’s sorry for her part in it, that she never stood up and stopped Regina herself. She wants to say that she thinks Janis is amazing and that she wishes every day that she could be more like her. She wants to say that she’s worth ten of Regina.

“This food’s really good,” is what she says instead.

They start on Act Three after they finish eating. Janis’ phone pings as they work and she texts back quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Damian,” she explains. “Just asking about my suggestions for a movie night for the LGBT+ thing.”

“What did you suggest?”

“I wanted Jennifer’s Body,” she explains. “But Damian thinks it’s too gory for freshmen. So I’m suggesting Pride.” She grins as her phone pings again. “And Cady’s on my side.”

“Pride… that’s the one about the coal miners in England, right?” She vaguely remembers seeing the title on Netflix. And remembers suddenly looking away and feigning disinterest when her mom looked at it.

“Well, Wales technically, but yeah,” she says. “It’s so good though. My mom said she’s trying to put up an exhibit in her museum about that part of history. But there’s pushback, as per usual.” She takes another drink of Coke and taps her pen against her notebook. “We were meant to have agreed on the movie last week, but… shit happened. We’re not good at this.”

“I think you are,” Gretchen assures her. Janis looks up, her mouth falling open just slightly. “I mean, you said you and Aaron are doing that workshop thing. And I see all the posters for the stuff you do around school. All the fundraisers and things like that. It looks like you guys are handling it really well.”

“We’re like swans,” she explains with a grin. “We look beautiful and graceful, but in reality, we’re paddling for our lives. It’s me, Cady, Damian and Aaron, but we’re going to start recruiting juniors pretty soon so they can keep it running when we graduate. And then they’ll recruit juniors to run it after they graduate and then they’ll recruit juniors and it will go on and one and on until the sun burns out of the sky.”

The sun doesn’t show any sign of burning out of the sky right now, the rain continuing its attack on Janis’ window and the sky a dark shade of grey. Janis follows her gaze, pulling a face at the scene outside.

“Nice weather for ducks,” she comments, shrugging when Gretchen looks at her with a confused frown. “It’s what my mom likes to say.”

“Oh.” She checks her phone and finds no messages from her own mom. Maybe she’s stranded herself; stuck in her office building thanks to the downpour. “Maybe I should start getting home-”

“The roads are still closed though,” Janis points out.

“I can walk the rest of the way,” she says, getting up. “Thank you so much for the clothes and the food and everything, I’ll get them back to you as soon as I-”

“Gretchen.” Janis gets up and closes the space between them, placing her hands on her shoulders. Gretchen wonders how someone’s touch can be firm and also soft. That actually encapsulates Janis perfectly. A combination of fierce and gentle that shouldn’t exist but does. “You can stay here as long as you need. Or as long as this storm keeps up for.”

“I appreciate that. So much.” The words tumble and fall out of her now with no control. “But I’ve already used your towels and eaten your food and I’m wearing your clothes, and I don’t want to bother you-”

“Gretch, I invited you,” she reminds her. She hesitates for a moment and then pushes her hair away from her face, her fingers trailing down her cheek and jawline. “You’re not bothering me. Or anyone.”

Her cheeks flame red and she opens her mouth, hunting for the right words to say. Even if she could, her chest and throat are too tight for her to even speak. All she can really do is smile and nod a little and let Janis lead her back to the bed.

“You know, studying’s pretty boring,” she sighs. “What do you say we take a break? Go see if there’s any cookies left, maybe watch a little Netflix?”

Gretchen allows herself to nod and smile. She lets Janis take her by the hand and lead her into the kitchen, stealing two more cookies before slipping back upstairs. The whole way down and up the stairs, their hands stayed intertwined, palm to palm. Janis made no move to separate them, so why would Gretchen?

“Come on.” Janis lifts her tablet and settles down on the bed, motioning for Gretchen to do the same. She sits down next to her, leaving just enough space so that she can still see the tablet screen if she cranes her neck. Janis looks at her sideways, her mouth turning into a slight frown. “Is it okay if I move a little closer? Just so you can see it better.”

“Um, sure.” Janis scoots a little closer. There’s just a hair’s breadth between their knees; Janis’ fishnet tights against the grey jeans she borrowed from her. Gretchen’s heart picks up and that shouldn’t be new to her, but it’s not out of panic or fear. Something flutters in her stomach, something light and soft. When Janis is this close to her, the feeling radiates throughout her whole body, tugging the corners of her mouth into a smile and making her melt onto Janis’ bed.

“So what do you want to watch?” Janis asks.

“I don’t mind, you pick.”

“Aw, come on, Gretchen, don’t do that to me. There’s got to be something you like.” She taps out her password and opens up the tablet, revealing a sketch on a familiar character; the long red hair and green tail were a favourite of a young Gretchen.

“Ariel!” she squeaks. Immediately her face flushes, especially in front of the “too cool for school” Janis. She clears her throat. “So… did you draw this?”

“Yeah, this is my art page,” she explains. “I do Disney stuff sometimes. This one’s going on my Redbubble.”

“Redbubble?”

“It’s an online store, basically,” she explains. “Once I print this out I’ll make stickers, I’ll put it on laptop skins and notebooks. One is going to be a present for my little cousin, but the rest I charge for.”

“Cool,” she replies. “That’s really cool.”

“Hey, since you’re an Ariel fan, how about we watch some of The Little Mermaid?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I do. Ariel was little Janis’ crush.” She opens up Netflix. “Yeah, one day it just all fell into place and I realised why I watched this movie so many times as a kid.”

_Must be nice_, Gretchen thinks. _To have it all worked out._ Whereas for her, the more she’s around Janis, the more confused about herself and her feelings and Janis herself she gets.

Together they watch the brightly coloured underwater adventure unfold before them, and it’s nice. It’s more than nice, really. Gretchen stopped watching Disney movies when she hit high school, hiding her DVDs in the back of her closet. Even her stuffed Flounder was hidden away under piles of coats, skirts and jeans after Regina had raised an eyebrow at him. She wishes she had him now. Maybe Janis would find him cute. Her own stuffed animal, Purrlock, lies across her lap, her finger running down his fuzzy back.

Gretchen’s hand slips from her hand as Prince Eric’s ship begins to go underwater. She doesn’t think much of it until she realises her fingers haven’t landed on the fabric of Janis’ bed, but on her warm fingers and cool metal rings. Her heartbeat pounds loudly in her ears. She should pull her hand away, but instead she just freezes and lets Janis wrap her fingers around her hand.

When Janis turns and smiles at her, she manages a smile back, and hopes she doesn’t look as freaked out as she feels.

She tries to do what her mom tells her to do when she’s feeling like this; break it all down to its bare essentials, try to work out why she’s feeling like this and what she can do to stop it. Take it apart and lay it out in front of her, count and total everything up until she finds the part of her that doesn’t work like it should.

She’s watching The Little Mermaid.

She’s in Janis’ room.

She’s wearing Janis’ clothes. Because hers got soaked by the rain which hasn’t shown any sign of changing; the frantic storm outside matching the one inside her head.

Janis’ dad made them dinner.

Janis invited her here. And she had said yes.

There it is, she realises. There’s the faulty bit. She’s sitting right next to her, long legs and dual-coloured hair and purple lipstick. She’s spent all afternoon with her and doesn’t really know why. But there’s more. Maybe there’s a reason she tends to avoid Janis; something to do with a racing pulse in the art room and sweaty palms as they stand outside the movie theatre waiting for Cady.

How long had she known? How long had she ignored it, denied it, pretended it doesn’t exist?

It’s only when Janis turns and looks at her that Gretchen realises she’s been staring at her. And biting her lip too, a habit she’d gotten so close to kicking. It makes her teeth look gross.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Warm brown eyes dusted with navy eyeshadow.

“I…” she begins. “I don’t know.”

“What is it?” She pauses the movie and pushes the tablet away, turning her body to face her. “Gretchen are you okay? If you want we can chance it and I can drive you home. Or maybe you can call your mom?”

“No.” The bed suddenly feels too small, Janis’s body so close to her making her claustrophobic. She jumps off the bed and runs over to the window, her reflection half-visible in the misty window. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She hears Janis come up behind her. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

No, she thinks.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Because of that.” Out of the corner of her eye, she fees Janis pointing out the window. “Because I couldn’t let you walk home in that.”

“Why?” she asks again. Her fingers dig into the fabric of the shirt. It feels like Janis; unique and daring, but soft around her.

“Because you’d have gotten pneumonia if you stayed out there,” she explains, but it’s half hearted and her voice shakes. When Gretchen turns around, she sees Janis driving her fist into her palm and taking in a deep breath. She stays quiet as she watches the cogs move in Janis’ head. Somehow the girl who towers over everyone else, both with her impressive height and her fierce personality, shrinks down, her walls stripped away, the fire extinguished until it’s steaming embers. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Janis sticks her hands in her back pockets, her eyes glued to the window. Her jaw is clenched so tightly it might never open. And the more sick Gretchen feels, the more she regrets ever getting off that bed, she hopes it doesn’t. “Maybe… maybe I like you.”

“Like me?” she echoes softly. The words hang between them, written in the steam on the window. Janis gives a tiny nod, her shoulders hunched over. Gretchen’s knees nearly give out when she realises when she’s seen that look on her before; in middle school, the day their friendship was knocked down.

“I mean, it’s not that I just invited you because I like you,” she explains quickly, her voice just that much too loud. “I’d have done it for anyone. Well, not anyone. But any of my friends. Like I’d do it for Cady. Or Karen. But I don’t like them. Well, I do, but not-not the way I like you.” She scrunches up her face, letting out a groan and running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Gretch, I shouldn’t have-”

“Why?” Every part of her is shaking; her hands, her voice, her heart. She feels like a clockwork toy that’s been wound up too tightly and is overworked to the point of breaking.

“Why?” Janis asks. Her own cheeks turn red. “Well, because you make me laugh. And you’re thoughtful. You look out for people. You want other people to be happy.” She shrugs, her eyes wide and honest and clear. “Why wouldn’t I?”

_A lot of reasons._

Gretchen swallows the lump in her throat, daring to glance up just long enough to look at Janis. She’s not sure what she expected; some movies have tear stained faces, others have nothing except for raised eyebrows and a nonchalant shrug. Janis on the other hand is squirming awkwardly from foot to foot, wringing and stretching her hands, wearing an apologetic and fearful look that Gretchen knows so well she may as well be looking in a mirror.

“Gretchen, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you-then I was. Damian said it’s better to tell you, but I didn’t plan for it like this.” She waves her hand, gesturing to the space between them. “Believe me, I’d have invited you here even if I didn’t like you… that way.”

“Janis.” Gretchen’s brain seems to turn on autopilot, because she closes the distance between them almost completely, tilting her chin up to look at her. She does have the bizarre idea to jump out the window, run and never speak to Janis for the rest of the year. Her feet stay firmly on the floor though. “It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.” She pulls the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands. Janis’ shirt. “It’s fine. I’m not-I wouldn’t think of you like that.” She wants to look down and avoid Janis’ eyes, but she can’t. Janis reaches out, her finger brushing against Gretchen’s wrist, and her heartbeat spikes. Words flee her brain. “It’s okay. I-”

_I like you too_. Four words she couldn’t get out if she tried.

“Gretchen.” Janis’ hand stays against her wrist. The other girl bites her lip hard. Another habit she seems to share with Gretchen. “Tell me-tell me if I’m wrong.” She hesitates and takes a daring move closer. Daring-that’s Janis through and through. For one minute, the phrase _her Janis_ crosses her mind. Janis’ eyes flit down to her lips. “Gretchen-tell me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” she whispers. “You’re not wrong.”

Janis’ lips are warm. Warm enough to chase away the chill in the air brought by the storm outside. They’re soft too; Gretchen has no problem melting into her. Her arms come up around Gretchen’s shoulders, one hand tangling in her hair. She thinks that Janis must have experience in this; she knows exactly what to do and when to do it, knows how to leave her just slightly breathless. It’s not exactly Gretchen’s first kiss, but it’s the first one that matters.

Janis is grinning when she pulls away, laughing that full, bright laugh of hers and slipping her hand into Gretchen’s back pocket. Gretchen’s first instinct is to say ‘thank you’ but she beats it down quickly.

“Wow,” she breathes. She leans a little forward so that her forehead rests against Janis’. “That was… really good.”

“Thanks,” Janis replies, her cheeks pink. They dissolve into quiet giggles. The rain patters against the window, just as harshly as before, and Gretchen burrows into Janis. The other girl takes her hands out of Gretchen’s pockets and takes her hands with a heavy sigh. “Look Gretch, I don’t know how long you’ve known or how comfortable you are or how slow you want to take it. But I’ll be here. Every step of the way.”

Every step of the way. That makes her smile more than the kiss did. Well, almost more.

“Can I keep your shirt?” she asks. Janis snorts a laugh.

“Yeah. You can keep it. It’ll give me an excuse to see you again.”

“Have you ever needed an excuse for anything though?”

When Janis’ lips touch hers again, Gretchen takes her phone out of her pocket and throws it at what she hopes is the bed. The wind howls and scrapes at the window, the rain beating down harshly against the walls, and even a clap of thunder rolls through the sky. But Gretchen doesn’t mind. As long as Janis keeps kissing her like this, it can rain for as long as God wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please leave comments and kudos, they're appreciated.  
Fun fact: the ableist English teacher and the angelic LGBT ally one are both based on teachers form my high school. Ms B if you're reading this, i love you.


End file.
